


an intro sequence that plays 30 minutes into the film

by proto_typ3



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Developing Relationship, Fingerfucking, Lightplay, Love Confessions, Love Realization, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Trans Male Character, but not enough to cause actual impairment, drifter has a few emotional moments to spice things up, more of a shift in relationship type, neither of them are good with feelings, so many feelings, trans author, we dont do that here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25047967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proto_typ3/pseuds/proto_typ3
Summary: after meeting late in the dark ages before naturally parting, they find each other in the tower, playing games and tiptoeing around emotions that still linger
Relationships: The Drifter/Guardian (Destiny), The Drifter/Male Guardian (Destiny)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	an intro sequence that plays 30 minutes into the film

**Author's Note:**

> edit [8/12/20]: somehow when i posted this i didn’t catch that i fucked up the whole middle portion and it didn’t make sense BUT i fixed it! a second chapter should be out soon, i’ve had to redo it a few times to get it where i liked it. there’ll be a smidge less porn, but i’ve been wanting to write more actual plot AROUND the porn so it takes a bit longer  
> ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

“Hey now, easy.” The Drifter cocked an eyebrow at the man as he walked up to him, a weight in his steps. “I saw you out there. Still fightin’ dirty as ever, I like it.” He slapped him on the arm as he handed over a new gun. A reward for a particularly good match hours prior. 

“Shaxx won't let me do much in terms of dirty.” He grinned. He liked their back and forth, always had. “You know how regulated the Crucible is these days.” He took the gun and examined it before tucking it into a pouch at his side with the fabric still wrapped around it. 

“Oh for sure.” Drifter noticed how he lingered, straightening his clothes. He wasn't exactly wearing Gambit armor, Drifter noted, but he had integrated some parts to his usual set. His usual cloak and scarf had a shader of his design applied. It looked good on him. “Not gonna transmat it?” He said, nodding at the gun he had just handed over. So often his guardians blinked away anything he’d given to them, never to be seen again.

“Outta vault space. Ghost’s mad at me for hoarding.” He laughed to himself.

“Wanna reorganize? Could keep me company.” He leaned towards him, arm propping him up on the table and a look in his eyes. It was after hours. Most guardian’s were unlikely to drop by this late. Harker took the bait easily, willingly. He always liked him guy, his presence. It didn't help that he kept looking at his lips. “I got cheap beer.” Drifter grinned. Cheap, here, meant a lower concentration of alcohol. Legally, he wasn't allowed to have much in the tower, especially since he ran a whole arena. Gambit was regulated differently from the Crucible, but there were still Tower-wide rules set. He didn’t argue with them much.

“Now you have my attention.” Harker laughed.

Drifter cleaned off his work space, Harker moving to close the gate at his request. They brushed together briefly, when Drifter pulled up a folding chair for him.

Harker's ghost started to transmat in gun after gun, muttering to itself in code. The moment Drifter's ghost peeked up and started to scan the items, he flinched away. Drifter’s ghost didn't seem to mind or notice, and simply kept at it’s task. 

“How many damn hand cannons do you have?” 

“I’ll take a shot for each one that drops in.” He sipped at the plastic cup Drifter had poured him, the drink bitter on his tongue. 

“Not tryna kill you, jeez.”

“You know it would take more than that.” He downed the rest of his cup and Drifter chuckled. Alcohol hardly did anything _period_ with how fast the Light usually delt with it. It was a kind of poison, after all. It liked fixing things in the background.

“Not to sound like a sap, but I missed this. Since you left.” Drifter said after a while, gesturing vaguely with one hand. 

“I… yeah.” He brushed over a gun on the table. Coincidentally, the one that he used right up until that event. Cayde’s death. He didn't even use Ace of Spades anymore.

“That and way back when.”

“Yeah, well. Way back when was different.”

“Still hurts, huh?” He said after a while.

“Knew him for a long time.” Not longer than Drifter, no, but longer than he ever expected. 

“Great guy,” Drifter’s ghost floated over and brought up a screen for him, tinted red as opposed to most ghost’s blue, checking over the mods on the gun he was holding. Dragonfly-type modifications were hard to catch from the outside. “Worked with him for a while.”

“Oh, really?” Harker was surprised.

“Yeah, before all this.” He gestured towards the bank twisting the light in the room, casting shadows from odd things.

“Never told me that.”

“He was part of the Vanguard, probably wasn’t the best idea to talk about it. People might think you’re biased or something.”

“Was he?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he didn’t like me.” He set the gun back down as Harker’s ghost transmatted in another one. Smooth white casing with some kind of gold engraving- ah, it had an ornament. He picked it up, tapping the holographic screen next to him. The ornament dissipated, leaving a more simple, clean design behind. “You gonna keep this?”

“You can have it, I don't like pulse rifles.”

“Thank you very much.” His ghost transmatted it away in a flash of red. Drifter looked at him while he was looking over his old guns, tracing that profile with his eyes. The subtle tension in his brow, the scar and divit across the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips. He wondered if the hunter would let him touch them.

“You lookin’ at something?” Harker set down his cup, only half finished. Again, he didn't want to get drunk against Drifter’s request. 

“You.” He said plainly when his brain couldn’t come up with a lie. Harker blinked, eyes still on the gun in his hands. 

“And?” The surprise washed over him only after the word left his mouth.

“For such an asshole, you got a pretty face.” He ventured broadly, smiling at him.

“You better not be drunk off half a cup of watered down beer.” He teased, just to hide his nerves.

“I’m not lyin’.”

“You lie a lot to be not lyin’.” Harker was burning under his armor, wanting to brush it off easier than this. Everything twisted bitter in his chest, but he hoped. God, he hoped.

“What, want me to prove it?” 

“You can try.” 

Drifter pushed up from his chair and took Harker by the collar. Maybe a bit violent to a passerby, but they did this a lot, throwin’ each other around. Still, out of pure instinct he pressed the barrel of the gun in his hands to Drifter’s stomach. It was unloaded, had been for years. How ironic.

Everything paused. A hunter half pressed against the railing, hands in his clothes. A rogue holding him upright.

“Gonna let me?” Drifter asked, voice as close to genuine as he’s ever gotten. Harker realised Drifter was hardly punning him. Everything was softer than usual.

Harker could feel his breath against him, scanned his face for a long moment, then relaxed his grip. His other hand moved to rest gently on his side.

“Go ‘head.” He replied, nearly saying something much more desperate. 

And Drifter kissed him. Gently, like he’d spook him, hands going loose in his collar. Soft, like he had loved him for a hundred years. Harker leaned into it, dropping the gun and cupping his face instead. Neither of them breathed for a long time, not like they were holding it in, but more like they forgot to, all wrapped up in each other. Drifter pulled away the slightest bit and Harker clung to him, hands moving back to hold the back of his head. He let him part for a second, just to breathe, before pulling him back in roughly. Drifter responded in full, parting his lips just to bite at Harker’s. 

Harker groaned against him, pushing his body forward. Drifter was the needy one now _._ He grasped at his armor and curled a hand around the back of his head as he kissed him, tongue and teeth. Light brimmed under Harker’s skin, wanting to warm him, protect him, _anything_ . It all wanted out, wanted to fill Drifter up and make him _burn_ -

He held back, hands falling to tense in his robes. 

They parted.

“ _Fuck_.” Harker breathed. 

“Come back with me.” Drifter murmured, a smile on his lips. “Up to the Derelict.” Those lips promised _more._

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded dumbly before kissing him again. His head was spinning and he wanted to keep it that way. Fuck, what was he _doing-_

“Let me get a transmat going, hold on.” He pulled away again, pulling up his ghost like it was no problem. The ghost only looked at Harker once before the motion of the transmat swooped them up. 

The cold nearly knocked the breath out of Harker. He was so warmed up from the alcohol and his mouth and his own stupid light that the unnatural chill made his teeth chatter.

“You solar hunters, I swear.” 

“Shut up.” He pulled his cloak around him as Drifter pulled him through his ship to the more habitable area he made his living space. Harker thought he could sneak in a kiss, leaning into his side towards his warmth, but Drifter spun him around and fell with him onto a beaten up couch. Harker nearly hurt himself when he shot back out of instinct. 

“Oh, come on, you’re good here.” Drifter purred, running his hands over his armor. It felt like a dream to Harker, everything going fast and slow at the same time.

“I know, I know.” Harker sunk onto the couch, crawling on top of Drifter.

“If you want to stop-” He started.

“No, no, this is good.” He planted a hand squarely on the arm rest he was propped up on. “This is good.” 

“Alright, alright.” He almost teased his repetition of words, but didn’t, letting his hands roam. They started kissing again, deeper than before. The hunter tore off his gloves and ran his bare fingers through his short hair, nails scraping his scalp.

Drifter shuddered, feeling Harker’s light warm him through his skin. God, how he _missed_ that light. Sure, any guardian’s light would feel good, but his felt _familiar._ He didn't have all that many relationships in the Dark Age, didn’t place himself around many guardians. It had always felt nice, that light thrumming next to him, where Drifter always beat his own down deep. So deep that not even other lightbearers could clock him as one of their own.

Harker hummed, pressing more of his body to Drifter’s. He bit his lower lip, antsy, hand going tight in his hair. He didn’t know how long he had wanted this. Years. Decades. A century? And holy shit, Harker was about to collapse. He pushed through it, pulling at Drifter’s clothes. Layer by layer they struggled with each other’s positions to try and strip, Harker getting distracted at various points with Drifter’s neck, kissing down to his collarbone. Drifter was intent on getting him just as topless. Bottomless also, eventually.

Fuck, he forgot how scarred up Harker was. He hoped he didn’t see the stare or the change in expression as his hands brushed over his front. A few were familiar, the ones under his pecs, that nick in his hip, but many were new. God, he hated that. Feeling the different textures under his fingers and knowing he had been in a million fights since he last saw him. A million deaths.

Harker tried to steady his breathing enough to not feel like a whirlwind. He wanted to experience this, not just the panicked memories after. When they both got to pants they just transmatted them off, not wanting to get up. If Harker was thankful about one thing to do with knowing Drifter beforehand, it was not needing to readdress how he was packing a different set. He hated bringing it up.

A hand slipped past his boxers, interrupting the thought, however, and Harker had to steady himself on the arm of the couch to keep himself from falling over. He looked down at Drifter, face flushed red, to see him looking pleased. His fingers quickly found the divide between his legs and dragged across his dick. Harker let out a shaky breath, nails digging into the fabric of the couch.

“This okay?” Drifter asked.

“This is an awful angle.” He breathed a laugh, blinking away the haze in his eyes. 

“Get up, then.” He responded simply.

“Oh, shit, okay.” Harker mumbled, staggering to his feet. Drifter followed after him, spinning him around to plop back down on the couch. Harker looked surprised to see Drifter crouch down between his already half-spread legs. 

“This angle work?” He looked up at him, smiling like a bastard. His hands were already back on his thighs.

“ _Fuck,_ yeah.” He spread his legs further, scooting up to the edge of the couch. “This’s great.” Drifter pulled off his boxers and rubbed his length gently, gathering the wetness with his thumb before circling his cock. Harker made a soft sound, hips twitching. 

All these little sounds, everything gentle from this hunter… this was going to be the death of him, Drifter thought. Harker was never soft like this, not before and not now, and Drifter could see something happening. He felt it when he kissed him earlier. He felt it in himself. 

Harker grinded his hips against his hand, biting his lip trying to shake some sense back into himself. It didn’t work, his mouth fell open as Drifter pulled close enough for Harker to feel his breath against him. Fuck, he was gonna eat him out on his couch, in _his_ Derelict, he thought, nails digging into his palms. Thumbs on either side spread him gently, tongue quickly making up the distance. Harker shuddered, trying not to seem too desperate when, shit, he had been fantasizing about this for _years_. As soon as Drifter made a more pointed move, he lost a good portion of his composure, a hand shooting up to muffle a strained noise. Drifter looked up at him without stopping, a smile on his lips. He circled his throbbing dick with his tongue and took it in his mouth, sucking, drawing a bitten-back moan from Harker’s lips. His free hand hooked around the back of Drifter’s head, urging him forward. He gave him that for a moment, lavishing him until he sounded nearly broken. 

“You've been wanting this for a while.” Drifter pulled back, licking his lips. He felt that light flare up in Harker’s grasp. 

“We can talk about it _after_.” Harker snapped, emotion welling up in him paired with the shakiness of his voice. 

“... that’s fair.” Harker shuddered and whined as Drifter went back to work with his tongue. He had no idea he’d be able to reach as deep as he could. It was like he was trying to carve him a new one. Harker’s head lolled back, trying to fuck into his mouth, a dozen grumbly moans escaping him every passing moment. Drifter’s hands were tense at his thighs, almost gripping them hard enough to bruise. _Fuck_ , he wanted them to bruise. His light swelled and bumped against Drifter’s cold interior, wanting a fight. Drifter hummed against him, feeling that pressure, that push and pull. They were a circuit of energy, and Harker was about to blow a fuse. 

Harker bit the inside of his cheek until it bled trying to keep quiet as Drifter worked him through it, relentless. The taste of iron snapped him out of it sooner than he would've liked. 

“Holy shit.” He wheezed. Rough, callused hands smoothed over his stomach and across his chest. Drifter looked up at him. He expected the look of success, like he had won, but he got this sweet, hazy look with this little laugh he pulled.

“Bastard.” Drifter murmured, kissing his inner thigh. 

“Get up here.” Harker pulled at him weakly. Without clothes, he didn't have anything to throw him around by. The rogue crawled over him, pressing him to the couch. 

“Sap.” Drifter grumbled into the kiss. There was still a solitary pair of shorts between them. Harker was only a little mad that he still had them on at this point. Drifter was straddling his waist, a hand pushing the hair out of Harker’s face. He pulled him in closer when the hunter’s light-warmed hands dipped under the waistband of his underwear. 

“You really lay it on thick with the light.” Drifter said against the shell of his ear as Harker pulled him forward.

“Sorry.” The light was immediately snatched away and Drifter’s soul felt like he was pulled with it.

“I didn't say stop. It feels nice.” The last part was quiet, like he didn’t mean to say it. 

“Oh.” It was easy to call it back. Just a subtle hum under his skin. It wasn’t even him truly using it, wielding it like he would a weapon. It was just how it manifested, agitated and hot under his skin, how it kept him alive. Harker couldn't help but want to feel Drifter’s too. So often it was tucked away, kept quiet. He was cold.

“I’m not asking you to return the favor if you don't want to, but… y’know.” Drifter murmured. Harker’s hands were mapping his body idly. A small part of him was always jealous of how easily he grew body hair. It had taken years for Harker to grow a scruffy beard and even then, his body hair often stayed thin, less than noticeable. 

“Oh, I wanna return the favor, don't even worry about it.” Harker cradled his face and started kissing him directly. A soft push and pull. Drifter murmured something that wasn’t even a word and leaned into the touch. The light in Harker’s hands flared, one on Drifter’s ass and one dangerously close to his crotch. He was startled by the little sound Drifter made, but an idea quickly grew in his mind. 

With light so ready in his muscles it was easy to manhandle Drifter against the armrest of the couch. In seconds Drifter’s underwear was pulled off and Harker had a hand burning against his thigh. 

“Oh, fuck.” Drifter forced himself to relax, the leg in the air coming down to rest on Harker’s shoulder. The hunter smiled from between his thighs. Drifter still couldn’t tell what the plan was, considering neither of them had-

“Oh, _fuck.”_ Drifter was quickly answered by a hand cupping him and two fingers delving inwards. He hadn’t exactly considered lightplay before, but now? Shit, Drifter never wanted him to stop. Harker stooped over him and crashed their mouths together while he started a slow, easy pace with his fingers, muffling the gruff sounds Drifter was making. “Motherfucker.” He grumbled, grinding his hips up. He was already dripping, likely just from eating him out. The ferocity in which he kissed back, bitten lips and straining tongue, told the rest of the tale.

“Bastard.” Harker breathed against his sore lips, a clear smile in his half lidded eyes. They fell into a rhythm, or what could be one in their half-delirious state. Drifter rolled his hips into Harker’s touch, trying to coax him deeper than his hands would go. He wanted his mouth on him, dammit, he wanted something bigger in him, anything. Then, light surged between them. 

“Fuck!” It ran up him like a current, no longer heat, just pure _energy._ Harker's palm against his dick almost _vibrated_ with it. He made his own little moan, humming it into Drifter's chest as he kissed across it. His free hand cupped his pec, thumbing his nipple experimentally. He arched his back without meaning to. 

“That good?” Harker smiled into his neck. Now this felt more like him. He expected something more like this. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Drifter panted. “Keep going.” Harker laughed, completely breathless. He’d be wanting more by the time he finished him and he hated it. He wanted to keep going back and forth like this forever. “Never- never quite used the light like this.” He grinded into his hand. 

“Feels good doesn't it?” Harker said fondly.

“Feels fucking _great_ .” He groaned. “God, it's so fucking good. You're so good.” Harker sucked in a sharp breath at that, his light flaring and causing another curse-laced moan to rip through Drifter. Harker didn't know he’d like _that._ He almost couldn't hold back asking for him to say it again. Almost. Instead he melted against him, light warming the hand on his chest. He mouthed at his neck, no longer set on leaving marks but just there to feel him. His hand would have cramped at this point from the motions, but thankfully the light can do more than one thing at once. Drifter grabbed at him, a strong thick hand as his waist and one along his jaw. He pulled him up just slightly, just enough to kiss him. He whined against his mouth as the pace faltered, hips straining to get the right angle again. 

The motions and the unstable light were enough to finish him. He cursed into Harker’s neck, his whole body shaking with the force of it. Harker moaned quietly with him, lost in the sound and feeling of Drifter under him. He withdrew his hand, bringing it up to lick the remaining fluids off. Once he could think straight again, Drifter’s face flushed impossibly more at the picture. 

“What?” Harker asked.

“That's dirty.” 

“You just ate me out and I just fucked you. Don't even start.” He laughed, whipping his hand on the couch, uncaring at this point. His light may be mostly tapped out, but a fire still burned in his core. 

“You look like you want more.” He saw straight through him.

“And what if I do?” He sat squarely on his hips now, flipped from before. They were back to square one, though a bit more naked. The hair tickled the backs of his thighs. 

“Fuck.” Drifter said, looking up at him. His hands came to rest on his thighs. That jade necklace had fallen behind him, the red cord bright against his skin. “Harker, I-” 

“What?” He asked quietly. The hunter tensed, wetting his lips. He almost seemed to become lighter, ready to jump up and run if needed. It made something ache in Drifter when he saw it.

“Harker.” His hands trailed up. Up his sides, his shoulders, up to cup his jaw and bring him in close. Harker blinked, searching his face for something other than the sad, tender look he had. 

“ _What?”_

“I love you.” He didn't expect that. Even with all the things leading up to it, he hadn't thought to acknowledge it. His face must've shown his confusion, because Drifter lessened his grip suddenly. His hands fell away and didn't come to rest back on his skin, no, _no-_

“No, no, no.” He muttered, grabbing his hands and putting them back on him, desperately. Drifter almost seemed mad. “Please.” He held his hands over Drifter’s, pressing down on him. 

“Harker?” He breathed, confused. Harker hid in his shoulder. Drifter's arms came to wrap around his back. Slowly. 

“I… it hurts to say it, y’know.” He tried to joke. It only hurt more.

“I know. I know.” 

“But god, I love you.” The words felt scratchy in his throat, but they were easier to say. 

“I loved you since the bar. That time we got drunk together after hours.” Harker said quietly, suddenly, words tumbling out of him, explanation, excuse.

“You…” Drifter asked, voice gone strained. The closeness of it made him shudder. 

“All this time...” His nails dug into the couch. Anger wanted to burst first. It mingled with the remains of his light and turned it bitter. It was sad.

“Harker-” 

“I love you.” He wheezed. Drifter took him by the jaw and kissed him. The roughness, the anger, all of it melted away. Every other time he’d been able to quell it had been with destruction, but this was different. This _fixed_ it. Drifter’s light was slowly washing over him, feather light. It made Harker want to cry. 

“I can't believe… all this time.” Drifter ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah.” He murmured, kissing him again. 

“Do you wanna stay here tonight?”

“I… I have shit to do. I can't.” He had patrol on the Tangled Shore in the morning and he needed to start flying there soon in order to get there on time. Spider didn’t like people being late. Harker didn't make a move to get up, comfortable in his arms.

“That's alright.” He didn't blame him for sounding a little disappointed. 

“I'll be in Gambit tomorrow, though.” He said, not sure where to go with it. Drifter hummed and kissed his cheek.

“This was nice.” He decided.

“Yeah.” Harker laughed a little. “You got a real good mouth.” Drifter sputtered and laughed. 

“Get up, I don't want to keep you.” He pushed him up and Harker detangled himself. 

The floor was _freezing_. Without his excess light or Drifter there to warm him he shivered, clenching his jaw to keep it from chattering. Harker found his clothes eventually as Drifter pulled on his pants again. This time he just transmatted them on, knowing that putting clothes back on is far less sexy than taking them off. He adjusted his cloak, checked his pockets, and looked back at Drifter.

“See you around?” Harker asked, pulling out his ghost, trying his best to ignore the immediate chastising comments coming in through his earpiece.

“ ‘Course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You have the worst taste in men.” His ghost buzzed once they were back on their ship.  
> “Let's just get to the Shore.” He massaged his temples. The ghost sighed and took control of the ship. Warp jostled them for a moment before the sensation lulled.  
> “If he hurts you...” His ghost started.  
> “He won't hurt me.” He groaned, starting work on sharpening his knives. "Woulda' killed me back in the Dark Ages if he really wanted to."

**Author's Note:**

> ive posted and deleted this twice before, so if it seems familiar that could be it.  
> comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


End file.
